Sixteen Going on Seventeen
by elmoruthPotterfan6
Summary: December 18, 1995. We know what happened, right? The last DA meeting before the holidays. Harry kisses Cho. Harry sees Mr. Weasley attacked. But what we didn't know is that Fred and Hermione had a little thing? Lyrics from Sound of Music.


**Sixteen Going on Seventeen**

**By: ElmoruthPotterfan6**

**A/N: It starts off slow to build up a story. The lyrics are from **_**The Sound of Music**_**, plus one of my favorite songs- 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen'. I was singing it one night, quite beautifully might I add, and this came up in my mind. **

**Discliamer: I DO NOT own ANY of the lyrics.  
I DO NOT own the world that it is in; Harry Potter.  
COPYRIGHT of their respected owners.**

**Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Twenty-One: The Eye of the Snake, Page *457***

_**December 18, 1995**_

**You wait little girl on an empty stage  
For fate to turn the light on**

Hermione sat on the overstuffed chair by the fire with her legs crossed. She was writing a letter to Victor while Ron sat on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework. Her letter was already half a roll, though she was almost done. They were just friends now. Long-distance relationships were not what Hermione needed right now, though she wrote to him and he to her. She didn't want to tell Ron that. He would just laugh and say 'I told you so!' though he clearly didn't. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him with half of her attention. He wasn't getting very far, and she was determined to not do his homework this time. He looked angry, riffling his hand through his hair. Hermione bit her lip to suppress a laugh. This essay was one of the easier ones. She guessed homework must be hard when you do you it by yourself.

The common room was almost empty. She had noted that the Twins were in the corner, writing on parchment.

She glanced at her watch. It has been about an hour since the last DA meeting till after the holidays. She wondered what was taking Harry so long to return back.

It wasn't a minute later that Harry walked through the portrait door.

Ron looked up, happy to be distracted from his essay. "What kept you?" Harry sank in the chair next to Hermione.

She looked at him from over her quill. "Are you all right, Harry?" she asked, catching on. Harry's face looked like he was in bewilderment. He looked happy yet…goofy.

He shrugged, trying to shake them off of him.

"What's up?" Ron lifted himself up to his elbows, "What's happened?"

Hermione stopped writing and watched Harry. Something was up. She couldn't tell if it was good or bad. He stalled. He wasn't going to tell. Hermione took measures into her own hands.

"Was it Cho? Did she corner you after the meeting?" Hermione was a girl, never the less. She knew these things.

Harry nodded. Ron laughed. Hermione gave the boy on the floor a look. He stopped.

"So—er—what did she want?" Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt to sound casual.

"She-" he began and then cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. "She—er-"

Merlin, he was slow.

"Did you kiss?" she asked, pushing the matter on.

Ron sat up so fast that his ink bottle spilled over the rug. He didn't care enough to clean it up. Hermione squinted at the mess.

"Well?" Asked Ron.

Harry looked between them and nodded.

"HA!" Ron fist pumped the air, and then laughed as several second years jumped. Harry then began to show some emotion other than confused. He smiled at Ron rolling on the rug. Hermione scowled at the rug bug and went back to her letter. She would let them two talk.

"Well? How was it?"

"Wet."

Ron made an incoherent noise.

"Because she was crying."

"Oh…are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno. Maybe I am."

Hermione sighed, deciding to butt in. "Of course you're not."

Ron snapped at her. "How do you know?"

This stung into her. Why would _he_ care if she did or didn't? He didn't care about her feelings. He didn't even know his own. She wasn't his property that he claimed, having to wait until he finds out what she means to him.

**Your life little girl is an empty page  
That men will want to write on**

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days. She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place," Hermione wasn't much sure of this herself, but she did hear it from others.

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," replied Ron, smiling again.

"Ron," she snapped, wishing that she could slap him. In matter of fact she could, she proved so in second year. "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"What's that supposed to mean? What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?"

"Yeah, who does?"

She couldn't keep the discust from her face. These boys beside her had no _clue_ about feelings. She didn't know if she should cry or to storm away. She restrained herself.

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" she asked.

"No."

Of course not. She told them why.

"One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode," retorted Ron.

Hermione wanted to smack him again. "Just because you have the emotion range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have." She picked up her things and left.

**To write on.**

An hour later Hermione returned to the common room. It was deserted. She couldn't sleep. Embers sparked in the fireplace. She leaned against the back of one of the fire-front chairs.

Her thoughts were wrapped around Ron and his lack of emotions creating her to cast a void between her and the person who knew her and understood her most. Granted he was several hours away….

"You're up late," inclined a voice from a dark corner of the room. Hermione jumped and spun around. She had forgotten her wand upstairs. _Stupid_!

"Oh, Fred. It's you. What are you doing here?"

"Wondering the same thing you were; how my baby brother can be so daft."

She tried to hide her face in a façade. It didn't work.

**You are sixteen going on seventeen  
Baby, it's time to think  
Better beware be canny and careful  
Baby, you're on the brink**

"Don't play dumb, Hermione. You can't pull it off."

She shuffled her feet on the carpet.

"Why are you pinning after him?" he asked, bluntly. She opened her mouth and closed it several times before shrugging. "You can do better." His voice was low. It sent gooseflesh to her arms.

She laughed it off. "Yeah. Right. No one wants a smart, nagging girl like me. Plus I'm not pretty."

Fred got up from his chair and walked over to her. He leaned against the chair that, an hour ago, Harry sat on.

"Any man would be lucky to have you."

**You are sixteen going on seventeen  
Fellows will fall in line  
Eager young lads and roues and cads  
Will offer you food and wine**

She laughed it off again, trying to get rid of her nervousness.

"Thanks for the complement, I think."

He playfully punched her shoulder. Her heart plummeted and her smile faded. He thought of her as a part of the boys. She held back tears and tried to pull on a straight face. Fred saw right through it.

"Hey, don't be like that!" he pulled her next to himself with one arm. She felt the outline of his body next to hers. She felt her skin heat up. She had been this close to Victor before, but it didn't feel like this. Krum's body was ragged with muscles, like Fred's, but unlike the older, Fred was softer, if that was possible.

**Totally unprepared are you to face a world of men  
Timid and shy and scared are you  
Of things beyond your ken**

Fred felt her uneasiness though the slight stiffness of her body. He looked down at her to see her bite her lip tensely. He gave her a half smile, pulling her closer.

"Oh, young witch. There is much I can teach you."

"Teach me?"

**You need someone older and wiser  
Telling you what to do  
I am seventeen going on eighteen  
I'll take care of you.**

"I'll take care of you."

Hermione gaped at him. At his gall. His arm wrapped firmly around her waist. She tried to control her breathing. She took a deep breath, smelling his scent. She couldn't place it, but she liked it.

She mentally shook herself.

**I am sixteen going on seventeen  
I know that I'm naïve**

"Look, Fred. It was a nice offer but…I know I'm not really an expert on this but what do you…" she sighed and looked at her feet. These were her lucky socks. She hadn't had much of a lucky day, but what about a lucky night?

"You can't really think of me as pretty," she murmured, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, but I do."

**Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet  
And willingly I believe**

She blushed. He was crazy. And she told him so. He laughed, a smile she never seen before played on his lips. This smile wasn't from a prank, it was genially happy. She bit her lip again.

**I am sixteen going on seventeen  
Innocent as a rose  
Bachelor dandies drinkers of brandies  
What do I know of those?**

"You're pranking me, Fred," She laughed, pulling away.

"Who says I am?" he asked, pulling her closer again, this time pressing her against the back of the chair, both hands on her hips. Her breaths were growing ragged. A blush worked her way to her cheeks. She bit her lip harder, but not enough to draw blood. Fred leaned over her, placing his head on hers.

**Totally unprepared am I  
To face a world of men  
Timid and shy and scared am I  
Of things beyond my ken**

She pressed her chest against his and arched her back, bringing her face close to his. All thoughts of nerves flew from her mind.

Something deep within her flowered, expanding happiness out her pores. Maybe she _did_ need help. Maybe she didn't need Ron after all. Another redhead will do just fine.

**I need someone older and wiser  
Telling me what to do**

Their lips touched briefly before there was ruckus from the boy's dorm. Shouting, from the sound of it.

"Professor McGonagall! Someone get Professor McGonagall!"

"Go!" Fred whispered, pushing her to the girl's dorm. He pressed himself back into his corner. Hermione ran up the stairs as quietly as possible.

**You are seventeen going on eighteen  
I'll depend on you.**

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please REVIEW. They are love.  
But I'll be honest. Though I love Fred in the books, I REALLY love Rupert in films [hate that he's Ron though], and I wouldn't mind if Daniel kissed me. I surly won't cry. [Fall dead if Rupert did, though. As well as James and or Oliver]. Just saying. That's all. REVIEW!**


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